


Turn Around, Bright Eyes

by GutterBall



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Cussing, M/M, bit of angst, mention of Mako Mori, mostly silly with cuddles at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GutterBall/pseuds/GutterBall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck gets stuck watching over Raleigh as he's coming out of anesthesia. Raleigh says a few things, Chuck doesn't know what to make of them, and the ridiculous pair of clownshoes have no idea what to do about it.</p><p>This was intended to be cracky fluff in the same vein as those cell phone videos of the wacky things anesthetized patients say, but these guys make everything so much more complicated. It can never just be easy. Nooooo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn Around, Bright Eyes

"But why does it have to be me?" Well aware that he was perilously close to whining, Chuck eyed the door to the recovery room with dread more appropriate to a Cat IV. "I mean, Mori's back, right?"

Tendo rolled his eyes. The bloke was two cups short of his usual morning levels of caffeine, which didn't help Chuck's case at all. "She's in Hong Kong. She's not in the 'dome. And she still has meetings for the rest of the week. You're the only one left."

 _Who doesn't have a goddamn thing to do,_ Chuck mentally added, gritting his teeth. The worst part about living through the end of the world was suddenly finding himself without a job and no idea what else to do with himself.

"Seriously, Chuck." Ol' Elvis dug the heel of his hand against one eye and yawned, and Chuck felt the first bit bad. The bloke had been at the bedside all night. "You don't even have to do anything. He'll probably still be under for a few hours, and Herc can relieve you by noon at the latest. Just... sit there. Okay?"

Which sounded even worse, if Chuck was honest. But... at least it was a job. A duty. Something to make himself useful and take at least a small part of the burden off his old man's shoulders.

So, slumping and giving in, he nodded, giving the door another look of dread.

"Here."

He returned his attention to Tendo, who was finally grinning a little as he offered a bagel and a little tub of cream cheese. Rolling his eyes, Chuck took the peace offering.

"Thanks, Chuck. I know you'd rather be doing just about anything else, but...."

But the poor sod in the recovery room had no one else, and that was... sad. Too fucking sad.

Raleigh Becket deserved better.

So, Chuck squared his shoulders and pushed into the dimly lit recovery room, pausing as the door hissed quietly shut behind him because... fuck. Becket looked... _diminished_ , somehow. Pale as a ghost against the white sheets, his eyes dark-socketed, one arm gently tied to the bedrail with soft cloths to keep the IV in the back of his hand safe from any possible thrashing.

Apparently, medical personnel had it on good authority that combat vets suffering from PTSD sometimes tried to fight their way out of anesthesia. Chuck could imagine. It was bad enough to wake from nightmares _without_ being drugged. He wasn't sure he wouldn't come out of it swinging, himself.

But he wasn't prepared for how... gutted... he felt, looking at the has-been what had saved the world and seeing him brought so low. Becket hadn't even looked this wrecked when he'd damn near died in his escape pod.

If this was what an emergency appendectomy did to a person, Chuck hoped his appendix minded its goddamn manners and stayed quiet and vestigial, like it should.

His knees traitorously shaky, he went to the overstuffed armchair cozied up next to the bed and sank down into it, only vaguely aware of how comfortable it was. It was just like Raleigh Fucking Becket to go up against every possible danger in the universe, only to be brought low by his own damn body. Herc had told him the bloke hadn't been himself for a few days, but because Becket was a stubborn ass, he hadn't told anyone about the fever or the cramping until he'd literally fallen out of his seat in the mess hall.

Apparently, it'd been quite the scene. Chuck almost wished he hadn't been beating the fuck out of the heavy bag in his bunk. Although, seeing Becket looking weak and washed out and fucking _fragile_ in that narrow hospital bed, he thought maybe he was glad he'd missed it, after all. The bastard hadn't gone down in their hallway dust-up, hadn't gone down against Otachi and Leatherback, hadn't gone down against Scunner or Raiju.

Hadn't gone down after being dropped into another goddamn dimension and detonating his own goddamn jaeger to ride out the explosion in the tenuous tether between two worlds.

His appendix. His stupid, tiny, barely thumb-length _appendix_.

So maybe it wasn't such a hardship to sit and keep an eye on the bloke, after all. They weren't exactly friends, but they hadn't punched each other since the hallway thing, and Chuck didn't wish his old rival any ill will. And it really _was_ a good idea to not leave the bloke alone in a room in case he came out of the anesthetic badly.

And if the bloke _did_ come out of it swinging... at least Chuck probably deserved it if he took a few shots.

So, snuggling back into the comfortable easy chair, he slathered up his bagel and settled in for a spell.

It was the least he could do. Almost literally.

\--

The noise was quiet, but even thoroughly enjoying some old book about a very important ring that everyone seemed to want but the one person what had it, Chuck was attuned to any sound from the bed. He leaned forward in an instant, his finger saving his page.

"Oi, Ray?"

Thankfully, it didn't look like the bloke was struggling. A fine line creased between his eyebrows, but other than slowly turning his head away, Becket didn't look to be disturbed. Relieved, Chuck reopened the book and laid it facedown on the end table where he'd found it. If the poor sod was stirring, he'd be waking up any time now and would probably need orienting, even if he was calm.

Probably ought to actually call him by his name, then. No sense confusing him.

Another noise, and the bloke's head turned with a bit more vigor. Now that Becket was facing him again, Chuck a great view of those thick eyelashes fluttering as the poor wanker tried to come 'round.

"Raleigh? Can you hear me, mate?"

"Hn."

It was almost a word but still mostly just noise. The fuck-all lashes fluttered again, and Chuck suddenly wondered why the fuck he'd never noticed how ludicrously long and thick Becket's fucking eyelashes were. And why he _was_ noticing now.

"Oi, Raleigh." He scooted to the edge of the chair and put a hand on the edge of the bed. "I dunno if you'll understand, but you're safe, yeah? You're in a recovery room in the Hong Kong shatterdome."

Okay, so maybe he'd read a few articles online about helping to orient someone coming out of anesthesia while he waited. He hadn't seen the book on the end table for a good hour, and he'd been bored.

"You needed an emergency appendectomy, so they had to put you under, but you're coming out of it. Everything's fine. You're safe."

"Nnkay."

He blinked. That... wasn't exactly what he expected. But it was... good, maybe? If it kept the bloke from flailing about and hurting himself or yanking out the IV, Chuck would take it.

"Can you say something, mate? So I know you're coming 'round?"

The fuck-all lashes fluttered again, finally parting enough for hazy blue eyes to roll around a bit before meeting Chuck's. Chuck couldn't help himself. He grinned with relief.

"There you are."

The bloke blinked a few times.

"Do you know who you are? And where?"

A long, slow blink. "I... think so?"

Making sense, even. Better and better. "You're Raleigh Becket, yeah?"

"Okay."

Chuck snorted. The silly sausage was clearly still out of it. "You're in the med bay in a recovery room."

Becket frowned a bit, mostly in his forehead, where that crease reappeared between his eyebrows. "Didn't you just say that?"

Exasperated, as it seemed all his worry was for naught, Chuck rolled his eyes and settled back in the chair. "Was just checking, mate. Wasn't sure you heard me the first time."

Long, blonde lashes fluttered, those baby blues a little less hazy when they sought him out again.

"Fuck." Another slow blink. "You're gorgeous."

Chuck's eyebrows shot up, an incredulous laugh catching in his throat. "I what now?"

His words slow and his voice thick from the anesthetic, Becket tried again. "You're fuckin' gorgeous. Are... are we married?"

He'd never felt a full-body, instantaneous blush before, but he didn't mistake it for anything else. "Raleigh, you are so fucked up right now, mate."

"Are we?" Slow blink.

"No! Jesus!"

To Chuck's mortified shock, tears welled up in those giant, hazy eyes. "Knew it. I ain't that fuckin' lucky."

"Oi, Becket, you don't--"

"Can we get married?"

Chuck clapped both hands to his brutally hot face, dragging them down and vowing to never speak of this to anyone ever. If whoever was in charge of the universe was kind, Becket would forget all about it when he was fully awake, and Chuck would wash out his brain with bleach, and everything would be fine.

"Fuck, you don't want to marry me. I'm hideous, aren't I? I fuckin' knew it."

Well, shit. The tears overflowed and Chuck found himself out of his seat and perched on the edge of the fucking tiny little mattress, tissues in hand. Unfortunately, he was a fucking awkward jackass, and he was making a right botch of it, and the bloke just kept leaking.

"Fuck, you're nice, too, and I gotta be a real asshole or you'd love me!"

Beyond mortification at this point and actively sweating in his civvies, Chuck swiped ineffectively at the bloke's pale, exhausted face and wondered what the fuck he was supposed to say. Nothing he'd read about PTSD and anesthesia had prepared him for this.

"Jesus, Raleigh, just... stop for a second, yeah? I'm running out of tissue, here."

"I wanna lick the freckles off your face, but you hate me, so I probably shouldn't say that."

Unsure how the bloke could even see his stupid fucking freckles what with how hard he was blushing, Chuck grit his teeth and tried to reestablish some sort of control over the situation.

"Raleigh, mate, we're not... you don't... I don't hate you, okay? Fuck."

Giant blue eyes, still glistening with tears, the lashes damp with them and at least three shades darker for it, stared up at him. "Fuck, you're gorgeous. Are you real? I wanna touch your eyelashes."

More flustered by the second -- Jesus, was Becket even queer? -- Chuck tried not to flail as he dabbed at the damp hair where the tears had seeped in just above the bloke's ears. "Becket, seriously. You don't know what you're saying right now. It's just the anesthetic talking, yeah? Fuck, you don't even like me when you're not doped to the gills."

Those already large eyes widened further. "I have gills?"

That did it. That officially tipped him over the edge. The laugh jumped out of him without consulting with his brain first, and he covered his face with both hands at the ludicrousness of it all. Why the fuck did the bloke have to wake up on his watch? Half an hour later and his old man would be here to be serenaded with ridiculousness.

"I dunno who you are, gorgeous, but I wanna taste your laugh so fuckin' bad right now."

A heavy hand landed awkwardly on his thigh, and he sobered up quick when he realized the bloke was trying to coordinate himself enough to sit up.

"Jesus, Raleigh." Being as careful as he could be, he gently pushed the doped-up wanker back against the pillows. "Lie back, yeah? My luck, you'll fall out of bed and crack your skull on the tiles, and Mako would never forgive me."

The lone mobile hand clutched weakly at his forearm before he could pull away. "I know you, right? You know my name."

Clearing his throat and calming down a bit, now that the silly sod wasn't talking a load of shite, Chuck nodded. "You know me, mate. You don't much like me, but you know me. I'm Chuck, remember?"

"I like you."

He huffed ruefully. "That's because you're stoned."

Who knew blue eyes could look so fucking tragic. "But you're nice. I have to like you."

Something twinged painfully in his chest. "I'm not nice, Ray."

"Then why are you here?"

 _Because there's no one else._ But he would never say that to a sober Raleigh. No chance in _hell_ would he say it to _this_ Raleigh with those fucking tragic eyes and weird compliments. It'd be like telling a kid that, not only is there no Santa Claus, but it was because the kaiju had snatched him and his sleigh out of the sky and eaten him on live telly.

Sighing, he glanced down to where Becket still had a weak grip on his forearm. "Because you're not alone anymore, yeah?"

The bloke's eyelashes fluttered again, the weak grip failing enough that Becket's hand slipped down to rest on Chuck's. Just when Chuck figured the poor sod had fallen asleep, Raleigh blinked his eyes back open again and inhaled a deep breath.

"Chuck."

It wasn't a question, as if he feared he had left the room. More an assertation. _You are Chuck._

So he nodded, not moving his hand from under Becket's.

"So fuckin' gorgeous."

His mouth twitched on a small grin, but the bloke was gone. It was... a relief... right? The conversation -- if he could call it that -- had been disconcerting as hell.

The question was... what the hell did he do with it? Had Becket meant any of it? Anesthesia did weird things to people, he knew. He just... wasn't sure this was one of them.

Did Raleigh really think he was gorgeous?

Blushing at his own ridiculousness, he slid his hand out from under Becket's -- though he made sure to lay it carefully on the mattress instead of leaving it on the bloke's chest; he didn't want the poor sod to wake up with a bad case of pins and needles from lack of circulation -- and moved to sit back down in the over-stuffed chair. He didn't pick up the book, though.

It turned out that people said all sorts of crazy shite when they came out of anesthetic. And each video he pulled up on his tablet made him more and more sure that Becket hadn't said anything he'd either meant or would remember later.

And, when his old man showed up a few minutes after he'd put the fucking tablet away again because he didn't want to watch anymore, Chuck left the room with the inexplicable urge to slam the door as hard as he could on the way out.

\--

He wasn't sulking, okay? It was perfectly normal to avoid human contact for two days, only emerging from his bunk to grab meals at off times so he wouldn't run the risk of bumping into anyone specifically.

Thus, when a hand slapped down on the table beside his tray, Chuck hunched his shoulders with dread until he realized it was just Herc.

A Herc that looked... disappointed. Fuck. He hadn't seen that look since before Pitfall, and it... hurt.

"Oi, what?"

He didn't care that he sounded defensive as hell. He _didn't_.

"Why are you fussed at Raleigh?"

Okay, not what he expected. Eyes wide, he looked up from the food he'd mostly been pushing around instead of eating and tried to gauge the level of pissed-off on his old man's face. "I'm not...?"

"Bullshit. Did he say something to you? Whilst he was coming 'round?"

_Don't blush. Don't blush. Do not fucking blush._

"Oi, the fuck are you on about?"

"Chuck, you know you can't hold anything he might have said against him. You two had a rocky start. If he said something... mean... whilst he was waking up, he probably just didn't realize you two patched it up, yeah?"

He wasn't sure if the feeling swamping his stomach was relief or not. At least the old man's mind hadn't gone to anything else. Although it rather sucked that the wanker immediately thought they'd reopened hostilities.

Returning his gaze to his tray, he prodded at the meatloaf he'd been systematically reducing to its individual components. "He didn't say anything mean."

Herc slumped a bit, his bluster fading. "Then why are you avoiding him? He's... honestly, Chuck, I think his fucking feelings are hurt."

He didn't believe that for one minute. He and Raleigh hadn't spared more than ten words for each other at a time since Pitfall. Yeah, they weren't enemies anymore. But that didn't make them friends, either.

No matter what the bloke said when high as a kite.

_So fuckin' gorgeous._

Yeah. Right.

Maybe he could grind his meatloaf down even further. Not like he was planning to eat it.

"He's asking about you, y'know."

His eyes flicked over to gauge Herc's expression without asking his mind's permission. He didn't speak.

"Says thanks for taking a shift waiting for him to wake up."

Everything in him stilled. "He doesn't remember that."

"I think he does." A shrug. "Said he thought it was a dream until Tendo told him you really were there."

_Don't react. It doesn't mean anything._

"He said you were nice to him."

_But you're nice. I have to like you._

He swallowed hard, staring at the mess he'd made of his plate as if it held all the secrets of the universe. "I'm not such an asshole that I'd kick a bloke whilst he's down, yeah?"

"I know that, Chuck."

Whatever. It didn't matter. He didn't even know why he cared. Not that he did.

"Son...." Sighing, Herc did the unthinkable. He clapped a hand down on Chuck's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Whatever he said... he didn't mean it, yeah? It was just the drugs talking."

He swallowed hard again, his stomach sinking. "I know."

_That's the problem._

"Will you at least let him apologize?"

Fuck. Herc wasn't gonna let this go. Not that Chuck really blamed him. Becket looked like a fucking kicked puppy when he was upset. Chuck probably wouldn't be able to resist doing anything to get rid of that look, either.

_...Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit._

"Yeah, Dad." He gave the old man a hint of a grin with absolutely no mirth to it. "He doesn't need to, but I'll talk to him, yeah?"

Relieved, Herc smiled back. "Good."

\--

That didn't mean he had to fucking do it in public.

Grumbling and fidgeting with the string of the hoodie he'd pulled on against the chill in the 'dome, he stood on the bloke's stoop and rolled his shoulders a few times, trying to settle his nerves. When he didn't feel so much like taking a sudden and lengthy walk around the entire shatterdome -- twice -- he pounded his fist on the metal door and waited.

The door opened, and Becket lit up on a smile. He was still pale and he'd clearly lost some weight from the whole appendicitis debacle, but... that smile....

"Chuck." His eyes lowered, and he cut back on the grin as he stepped back from the doorway. "Uh... hey. I didn't expect...?"

So not prepared to do this in the hallway, Chuck tried not to be wearing one of his many scowls. It was difficult. He had so many to choose from.

"Oi, Ray." He nodded awkwardly. "Can I...?"

Becket's eyebrows rose.

Fidgeting again, he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Can I come in?"

"Oh." The bloke backed away from the door like the hallway was on fire. "Yeah, c'mon in. Sorry, I should have...."

Jesus, this was awkward. They'd never been awkward, even when they borderline hated each other.

As he walked in, Chuck couldn't help but wish they weren't awkward anymore. He didn't want to go back to them fighting, and he wouldn't be thrilled to go back to them just tolerating each other, but--

"Hey, Chuck?"

Fuck. The poor sod sounded... resigned. And sad. And Chuck suddenly realized he'd been standing with his back to the bloke and it probably looked hostile as hell, what with his hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket and all.

Flushing enough to feel the tips of his ears burning, he turned to face his fate. Shit. Becket had his kicked puppy look on, though he'd thoughtfully directed it to the floor instead of hitting Chuck with it full-force.

"I'm sorry, okay? I know I said a lot of dumb stuff while I was under, and I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

He blinked, his eyes wide. Soooo much to unpackage from all of that.

"You... remember what you said?"

To his surprise, the silly wanker blushed, the color crawling up his throat even as he sheepishly rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Tendo showed me the video feed from the med lab."

Chuck's stomach fell right through the floor.

"When I told him I thought maybe I'd been a dickhead because I was pretty sure you hate me again, he pulled the footage into Loccent."

His throat as dry as Coober Pedy in summer, Chuck tried to make his mouth work. "Jesus, Tendo saw it, too?"

Becket shot him a wary look. "No. He just pulled the feed. As far as I know, no one's seen it but me."

Sweet Jesus. He felt almost weak with relief. "Thank fuck for that."

At that, Becket flinched almost like he'd been slapped and cleared his throat. What the--?

"Anyway, just... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If... I mean... you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. I just wanted to say sorry for... just... I'm sorry."

He did not like that look. Becket shouldn't look like that. The wanker had saved the world, saved Chuck's life several times over, and was generally an all-around good bloke, to boot.

"Raleigh?"

Becket sighed and didn't look up from the floor. "Yeah?"

He swallowed hard. "Did you mean it?"

The bloke's jaw tightened, and he forced a bitter laugh. "Which part? The part where I asked you to marry me, then cried when I realized you'd never want me, or the part where I thought I had gills?"

Yeah. He'd do it. He'd do just anything to take that look off the bloke's face. He couldn't fucking stand it.

So he stepped closer. "The part where you said I'm fucking gorgeous." Another step as Raleigh flinched again. "The part where you said you don't hate me."

Another step, and his hand shot out to gently snatch the bloke's forearm when he tried to turn away. It brought him close enough to see the heartbeat hammering away in Becket's throat, the tensing of the tendon there as the poor bastard craned his head away.

He leaned closer and lowered his tone. "The part where you said you wanted to taste my laugh."

Becket might have shed some bulk from his illness, but that body was still solid steel as it tightened. "You don't have to rub it in, okay? I know what I said. Fuck."

Holding his breath, he all but whispered the all-important question. "But did you mean it?"

For a split second, he thought the bloke would jerk out of his light hold and deck him. Then, the poor sod slumped, one corner of his mouth twitching on a sad half-grin.

"Yeah." A sigh. "Happy now? The has-been thinks you're hot."

Light-headed, he licked his lips and made an admittedly rash decision.

"Yeah. I am."

And before the bloke could react, Chuck cupped his jaw, tilted his face up, and kissed him. He stayed tense for a long moment because, honestly, this could go either way.

Then... the slightest pressure back. The thrumming of the muscle in Becket's forearm eased under Chuck's hand. Sighing, he kissed the bloke again, so relieved he didn't think there was even a word for it.

And when Raleigh's hand hesitantly rested on his hip, he shifted closer until he felt the warmth of the bloke's chest against his own. Raleigh made a soft noise, almost as if he was coming out of anesthesia again, and opened his mouth.

Chuck didn't need to be told twice.

\--

"So when did you know?"

Becket stirred, shifting and breathing in deeply. "Hn?"

They'd made out well into the evening, but the bloke was still a bit weak from his recovery, so they'd eventually climbed into bed to rest for a while. Chuck was currently the most comfortable he'd ever been in his life, sprawled half over Becket's imminently cuddle-worthy body, his ear right over the bloke's slow, steady heartbeat, the blankets pulled up over them both, though they both wore tracky dacks and socks.

"Did you know before the whole anesthesia thing? Or did it come to you then?"

"Oh." The poor sod must have actually been asleep, and Chuck felt a little bad for waking him. "When did I know you were gorgeous?"

Blushing a bit and wishing he'd just kept his stupid mouth shut, he shrugged.

But Becket only huffed a quiet chuckle and leaned down to kiss the top of Chuck's head. It was stupid. Chuck fucking loved it.

And no amount of torture would pull the admission from his lips.

"That, I knew from the first time I saw you in the jaeger bay."

He blinked. "Oi, when I glared at you for no fucking reason?"

Chuckling again, the silly bastard stroked his fingers through Chuck's hair. "What can I say? Your resting bitchface is adorable."

Grunting, he poked the wanker in the ribs. "Fuck you, Becket."

"Hey, you asked."

Grumbling, he resettled, conveniently hiding his blush against the silly sausage's chest. "I meant when... y'know." His grip around the bloke's waist tightened. "When you knew you... liked me."

"Ah."

That... wasn't an answer. Neither was another stroke through his hair. Chuck couldn't argue with that last bit, though.

"That's a little more complicated."

He chickened out. He was too content where he was to demand more. "'S not important, mate. Go back to sleep, yeah?"

They were quiet for a while, surprisingly comfortable after all the fluster that had gotten them here. Raleigh's hand stroked slowly through his hair or down his back or over the nape of his neck. He couldn't help but occasionally run his fingers along the incredible line of the bloke's obliques or the cut of his abs. He wasn't trying to start anything. Just... lingering.

He'd never done lingering before. He'd never had the time.

He liked it.

"I think it was when you gave me that look after the compatibility trials."

Damn. He'd almost been asleep himself, this time. Blinking his eyes open, he frowned. "Eh?"

"When I knew I liked you." Gentle fingers stroked up his nape, sending goosebumps skittering down his spine. "You looked so goddamn smug, and I should've been pissed, and so much else was happening, and all I could think was that I wanted to kiss that smug-ass look off your face."

Still frowning, he shifted to lean up on one elbow and look down at the bloke. "Raleigh... that's... we were still at each other's throats then." He shook his head. "I was still being a right twat."

But the silly sod only grinned crookedly. "And I suddenly realized I'd been mentally tallying your various bitchfaces because they were fucking adorable."

He snorted. He couldn't help himself. It wasn't attractive in the least, but somehow, he guessed Raleigh wouldn't care.

"What number were you on, then?"

"Bitchface #5."

He had no more control over the smirk than he had over the snort. "Jesus. How many are you up to now?"

Becket smirked, too, and... yeah, okay. Chuck could see the appeal. The bloke looked fucking adorable, even if he kinda wanted to punch him.

"Bitchface #47."

He laughed. "Bullshit."

Before he could quit laughing, Raleigh leaned up and kissed him, hard and deep. Caught offguard, Chuck could only groan and tighten his grip around the bloke's waist. Blunt fingers dragged down his back, not quite scraping. Just pressure.

Chuck wanted it again.

Unfortunately, Becket took that moment to pull his mouth away with a gasp, eyes almost as hazy as they'd been under anesthesia as he gazed up at Chuck.

"Yeah."

Dazed himself, Chuck blinked stupidly. "Yeah?"

Sighing, Raleigh lay back against the pillow and looked up at him, grinning lazily. "I knew your laugh would taste good."

He blushed all the way to the tips of his ears, half of him wanting to scoff and half of him buzzing with... pleasure. From the compliment.

And, yeah. From the kiss.

"You're a fucking wanker."

Smirking again, the bastard jerked up suddenly and... what the fuck??... licked his fucking cheek.

"Oi!"

"Huh."

He swiped a hand at his cheek and glared, still blushing. "The fuck was that?"

"Your freckles just taste like the rest of your face."

The laugh was out of his chest before he even knew it was there, and he shook his head even as he lowered to lay back over the big idiot he was too fond of to beat up right this minute. "Something so wrong with you, Becket."

The silly fuck snickered, sounding smug as hell. They settled again, though it was edging past dinner time and Chuck, at least, could definitely stand to eat in the near future. Raleigh should probably eat, too. Keep up his strength.

He lightly traced his fingers over the skin well above the stitches from the surgery and let himself remember the feeling when he'd first walked into the recovery room and saw Raleigh looking so small and fragile. Swallowing hard, he determined to keep a better watch on the silly bastard. Someone had to save Raleigh Becket from himself.

Maybe that was his job now. The distraction he'd been needing now that there were no more battles to fight.

His voice low enough that, if Becket had dropped off to sleep again, he likely wouldn't wake him, Chuck murmured something he'd been keeping to himself all this time.

"You've never once been hideous, Raleigh." Sighing, he turned his head enough to brush a light kiss on the skin over that reassuring heartbeat. "You're fucking gorgeous, okay?"

Gentle fingers stroked through his hair. "Ya think?"

Shit. Well, in for a penny and all. "I _know_."

The bloke was quiet for a moment. Then: "When did _you_ know, then? When I only had one set of drivesuit scars, or when I made sure both sides matched and added permanent brain damage to the mix?"

He frowned for a long moment, then pulled back up to his elbow to outright scowl. "Raleigh, what the fuck?"

Because the bloke looked... well, this smirk wasn't adorable in the slightest. "Why do you think I never said anything?"

Incredulous, Chuck sat up completely. "Raleigh, you're not serious...?"

Fidgeting and uncomfortable for the first time in hours, the bloke looked like he was seriously considering yanking the covers up over him. To cover up the scars. To... to hide.

Jesus.

"Raleigh Fucking Becket." Scowling harder, he leaned down and poked the stupid fuck in the chest. "You listen to me and listen fucking good. I fucking _love_ those drivesuit scars, okay? You know why?"

Becket grit his jaw, his eyes dark and wary.

"Because they mean you _lived_. You get me?"

The wanker tried to look away, but Chuck was having none of that. He was careful to be gentle, but he damn well turned the bastard to look him in the eye. He wanted no mistakes.

"And the brain damage? Fuck, mate, you survived piloting solo _twice_. I'd ten million times rather have you a bit brain-damaged than a lot brain-dead, you fucking wanker."

But he knew at a glance that Becket wasn't convinced. Gritting his jaw, he twisted at the waist and gestured back over his shoulder.

"You see that? That's from Ceremander. Fucker tried to pull off one of Striker's wings." Shifting again, he pulled down his tracky dacks enough to show the start of the net of geometric scars on his thigh. "Taurax. Bit into Striker's leg on my side. It goes down past the knee, front and back. Dad's isn't as obvious there, but he has 'em, too. And more."

The darkness in the bloke's eyes wavered but didn't fade. Chuck sighed, slumping a bit and letting his trackies snap back into place around his waist.

"We all got scars, mate. We're all fucked up, yeah?" Softening, he traced his fingers over the newer scars on Raleigh's right side. "The point is that we made it."

After a long moment, Becket relented enough to smile a bit, though it was a poor showing. "Toldja you were nice."

Blushing and swatting the idiot on the hip, Chuck grumbled the entire time he resettled along the bloke's side and pulled the covers back up over them. When he was perfectly comfortable again, he grunted.

"And you're still fucking gorgeous."

Lo and behold, but those gentle fingers stroked through his hair again, and he fought the urge to purr like a well-fed cat. He still had his dignity, dammit.

"So're you."

He blushed. So much for dignity.

"Whatever, Becket. Go to sleep."

"You'll be here when I wake up?"

He couldn't help the smile. He had a disturbing feeling he'd be doing that a lot in the near future.

Tendo better keep his goddamn mouth shut.

"Yeah, mate. I'll be here."

"'Kay."

When he was absolutely sure the bloke was napping soundly, Chuck leaned up on his elbow again and looked down at those fuck-all lashes. Barely whispering, he finally answered the question Becket had taken upon himself to answer wrong.

"I knew it when I first saw you, too, mate. You looked like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders, and for a split second, I wanted to shoulder it for you." He smiled a bit. "Then I went and tripped over my own goddamn ego. But that's on me, not you."

Sighing, he lay back down and got comfortable all over again. Just as he found the perfect position, Raleigh's arms wrapped around him.

Shit. The wanker hadn't been asleep after all.

But Raleigh didn't say anything. Just wrapped his arms around him and held him close. And just like that, Chuck knew.

Smiling and cuddled up to that scarred but still perfect body, Chuck Hansen realized that everything he'd said while Raleigh was trying to wake up was true.

They were safe. Everything was fine.

They weren't alone anymore.

So, safe and fine and _together_ , they both slept peacefully for the first time in years.

**THE END**


End file.
